Vancha March: The Way of The Prince
by Peridot Tears
Summary: An autobiography of Vancha's life.
1. Prologue

**_PT:_** **_Yup! I'm writing an autobiography of everyone's favorite crazy Vampire Prince (drumroll)...Vancha March! Or Harst... Yeah, I like Vancha and I'm almost done with reading Lake of Souls. So...here's an autobiography of Vancha! On with the story! Please review!_**

**_Time: Vancha is writing about his life up to when he becomes a vampire Prince. At the end of the story, there's going to be a special chapter...so yeah..._**

_Disclaimer: What kind of writer doesn't even know what happens at the end of their own series?_

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**_PROLOGUE_**

****My name is Vancha March. I'm a Vampire Prince. I'm not joking. Vampires are real, but they aren't what they are depicted as in stories. We are creatures of the night, but we can face daylight for a little while. We aren't immortal, we can age very old, though. Full vampires age one year for every ten years they live.

We don't live on blood only. We can eat normal food, but I prefere to eat things raw. Vampires need blood to live, but we can go for days without it. When we feast on blood, we don't kill. We can drink from animals and humans by knocking them out with a special gas and then opening a vein in a non-vital spot. That's when we drink and then heal the cut with our spit.

However, the vampeneze are a different story. They kill when they drink and they drink from humans only. They drain a human completely of blood. They have purple skin, red eyes and nails. They broke away from the vampire clan centuries ago and had a war with us. It stopped when we signed a treaty.

We do have things in common, however. When we join a vampire or vampaneze clan, we swear to use only weapons like swords, spears, chains, knives, axes or, in my case, shurikens. We never use crossbows, guns or anything like that. Another thing in common is that we live the same life span, are honorable creatures of the night and we have the same strength. We all have tough nails and teeth, we die less easily, we have great strength and reflexes and we have a special ability called flitting. It's when you run and hit a speed that's about as fast as light.

I was a vampaneze once. A half vampaneze. When you are blooded as a vampire or vampaneze, you can be blooded only halfway. Then, you can survive in sunlight. You age a year for every five. You can't flit and you aren't as powerful as a full vampire or vampaneze. You can go on longer without blood.

I believe it's time to share the story of my life. My name is Vancha March. This is my story.

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_**PT: I'll let you know how often I'm going to update this. I'm going to put it in the updating schedule on my profile. Plus, I am in need of a beta-reader for all of my stories. It's best if you check what my interests are in anime, manga, movies, books and so on. If you're interested, you can private message to me. Er...reviews anyone?**_


	2. Chapter 1

**_PT:_**_** I finished the whole series! Sheesh, the series made me cry numerous times. Man, it's been two years since I've cried over something I read! This is the second time to cry over reading a book in my whole life! Waaaahhhhhh!!!!! Anyway, many thanks to Murky Water Farie, still-dreaming15 and AnyaTheRhymer for reading the prologue and reviewing! So, this story has been added to my updating schedule. You can find the schedule in my profile.**_

**_Time: Vancha is writing about his life up to when he becomes a Vampire Prince. At the end of the story, there's going to be a special chapter...so yeah..._**

_Disclaimer: I'm not as mysterious as Darren because...I LIVE IN NEW YORK! See? I don't own Cirque du Freak._

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**_CHAPTER ONE_**

It's been such a long time, but I still remember the day it all started, as though it had just happened an hour ago. The day all of heaven and hell broke loose and ran me over. I was Vancha Harst then. My brother Gannen and I lived in the early 1700s. We definitely descend from America but that's a whole other story. We did, however, leave when we were blooded. That story can wait.

My parents were in the fur trade and we lived on that only. Fur was our source of profits for a living. I can't remember much about them, but I do remember that their names were Valerie and George Harst. They are long dead so it won't hurt to give their real names.

Gannen and I are a different story. We still live. We're still breathing. Our names aren't what you suspect. That's the only thing I can't reveal in this story. Everything else is revealed.

This story will soon tip you headfirst into a world of loss and sorrow. I must warn you that it's nothing but pain. You have a choice now, either quit reading this story and read something happier, like those jolly little Junie B. Jones books by the woman, Barbara Park, or continue reading this story. If you choose the latter, just don't say I didn't warn you when you shed tears, a possibility of the story. Enough chat, let's begin.

It all started when Gannen and I were teenagers. By then, our parents had died from smallpox, a pretty deadly disease at the time. We had wandered around aimlessly in the woods. It was definitely dangerous. We had to take our chances though. Gannen and I lived on hunting, mostly deer. We slept in fallen trees that had hollowed out over time. We always blocked out the ends of the hollow so that predators, especially panthers, wouldn't stand a chance of coming in.

Gannen and I kept each other alive. I can't remember whether he was older or younger than me, only that there was a two-year difference in age between us. We were very close. The day we were unwittingly flinging ourselves into pain was by far one of the worst I've ever experienced. It all started at night.

I was sitting on the tree limb, waiting for Gannen to come back frrom hunting. We took turns hunting. I was looking around warily, alert to any signs of danger. The woods were a dangerous place to live for us then. I shifted on the limb, eyes watchful. Then I heard a rustle.

Instinct drove me to jump down from the limb at once. Roaring, I grabbed my only weapon: a knife left over from my father. I held it up in front of me, ready to turn if whatever had made the noise was sneaking up on me. My eyes darted around, sharp as anything.

Gannen and I had camped out in this clearing for a few days. We had lived in the hollowed tree that was next to a wall of brambles.

"Who's there?" I shouted, still wary.

"Vancha, it's me!"

I relaxed as I identified the voice of Gannen. He was back. I watched as he appeared. He looked like me, with the same unusually large eyes and tiny mouth. I hated those qualities of my appearance.

To my dismay, Gannen carried nothing but the crossbow he had gotten a from an uncle, also dead from smallpox.

"Nothing?" I asked.

Gannen shook his head. He was visibly distressed. I couldn't blame him. Winter was coming and we couldn't survive outdoors like this.

I sighed and went over to our hollow. I picked up a few brambles and pushed it against an opening. If we had to try surviving the winter, then so be it.

There was a rustle.

I whirled around, knife up, ready to defend myself. Gannen was already aiming his crossbow at a bush.

"Who's there?" he barked.

Silence.

Gannen and I stared for a period of time. Still nothing.

Then, to my horror, someone was behind me, pressing a knife at my back!

Even more, to my amazement, whoever the person was, he or she had managed to sneak from one side of the clearing to this side!


	3. Chapter 2

_**PT: I'm ssssoooooooooooooooooo sorry for the late update; I was delayed by my mom. Plus, I had other fics. Well, I'm back and updating; phew. If any of you doubt me, I never leave a story unfinished. Truly. Thank you to everyone who have supported me in this fic. Arigatou gozaimasu, -bows very low-. Please enjoy this chapter! Also, I plead for reviews! Oh yeah, review replies below. No, for those of you who have been reading roxypony's The Vampire Files, I am NOT copying her or anything. I got the idea soon after I got my sixth review and I didn't read The Vampire Files until about a month later . . . or a week after . . . or something. I found a beta-reader :D Yay! Anyway, ooooooo, thanks for the reviews! I'm seriously happy about the ones I got. Anyway, one more thing: I put Vancha in America because . . . I know America the best because I am an American. I'm not trying to sound stuck-up about my home country by making Vancha hail from there. Updates will end up REAL slow, but I'll eventually speed them up if I could. Enough ranting, R&R, people!**_

**AnyaTheRhymer** Ooo, yeah, I was thinking about A Series of Unfortunate Events when I typed that down.

**pshycodramabeautyfish** I love ending at cliffhangers. I think something suspenseful and/or dramatic is really good for a story.

**FriendoftheVampires892** Vancha . . . a dad? That _would_ be kind of cool. :)

**The Deamon Games Master** None taken, don't worry. I don't like them either. Sure, I like the suspense, but I seriously hate waiting! :)

_**Time: Vancha is writing about his life up to when he becomes a Vampire Prince. At the end of the story, there's going to be a special chapter...so yeah...**_

_Disclaimer: I'm not Darren Shan, coz I'd never have the heart to kill Kurda, Gavner, Larten, Arra . . . Well, you get the point!_

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_**CHAPTER TWO**_

I could hardly breathe, let alone talk. I've never been threatened like this before, ever. Okay, I've been threatened by wild animals in the face of death, but none of them ever sneaked up behind me like this.

I stood there for a long time, not even flinching away from the knife. I was too scared. Gannen stood there too, pointing his crossbow at someone over my shoulder. His eyes darted from my face to our attacker, but the rest of his body didn't move. There was the slight twitch of his hand every few seconds, but other than that, nothing.

I was shaking slightly and I'm pretty sure my eyes were wider than ever. What did this stranger want? Was he or she some kind of . . . I don't know.

"Leave us alone," Gannen snarled. His eyes were glinting with cold fury at being attacked like this. "Go away."

I held my breath.

The voice I heard was unlike what I had suspected.

Literally, it was . . . old.

"Listen to what I have to say." Oh God, it was ancient. I don't know the best way to describe it, but it was strong . . . . Yet there was something to it that made me think of old people.

I started to twitch a bit at the feel of the knife.

"I mean no harm." Okay, now I was really starting to get curious. Who was this person? It sounded like a man. A man about . . . I don't know. He sounded to be around thirty years of age.

And mean no harm? He's sneaked around us, two orphan teens, holds me at knife-point and means no harm? Who was he kidding?

Gannen seemed to be thinking along the same lines. His face showed open hate as he snarled, "Come in peace? You're threatening my brother's life and we haven't even done anything to you!

"Leave!"

The stranger and I just stood there as he barked out the orders.

The look on Gannen's face was so ferocious. I was surprised that the stranger wasn't running in the opposite direction with bullet speed. I certainly would have been, if I didn't know that this was my brother we're looking at. Anyway, I couldn't move. The knife was a real threat; I was scared as hell.

I didn't want to die; I had to live. Nuh-uh, I wasn't going to die in spite of everything I've been through.

I've caught smallpox when my parents were still alive--I survived. I've been poisoned when I was bitten by a toxic snake a month before the event I'm writing about now--I survived. I've been up close to hungry bears right after winter before--I survived.

I refused to die at this time.

How could I escaped being held at knife-point, though?

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"Well," a small man chuckled, "things certainly are getting rowdy, aren't they?"

He watched the scene playing on the pool of water in front of him and grinned maliciously. Had anyone been there, chills would have been sent down their backs at the sight.

At a glance, this man was seen as dangerous.

Indeed, he was dangerous. And sadistic.

He was in what seemed to be graveyard, where it had obviously rained not so long ago. The air was still slightly misty; the graveyard damp. Beads of water steadily dripped off of plants, from withered flowers on graves to the overgrowing moss that had sprouted over time. On the ground, blades of emerald grass was sparkling with dew. It was all a clear silver.

Truth be told, the graveyard was actually beautiful, especially at this time of the night.

Unfortunately, the little man was there and he was a horror. He was not ugly at all. That is, he was not ugly--just another old man who was a tad bit small--until you noticed his face.

His expression showed true sadistic pleasure. He could have had hired twelve men to murder countless innocent children just to have a good laugh in his boredom. To hear them scream. To hear wails and cries. Just because he was bored.

In short, he made to graveyard a bit of an eyesore by keeping his face there.

He rubbed his gloved hands together as he looked into the flat, silver puddle.

What a perfect place to do his business. Too bad he had neglected to bring his slaves with him. Oh well.

"Everything's going perfectly fine," the little man muttered with great approval. "He's doing as I told him to. Excellent.

"Everything will go as planned."

_**PT: Lalalalalalalalalalalala, erm . . . I'm supposed to say what? I might post some fanart as companions to the fic on Deviantart. My account username is PTDaHood there, but nothing for Darren Shan is posted there yet. Just in case I DO post something there and forget to mention it; my memory's horrid. Anyway, this chapter doesn't seem to be my best, mainly the confusion. To explain, the second part was written by someone else. Someone else had written the nest part after Vancha finished writing for the time being. The writer is--for now--anonymous. Plus, I couldn't fully describe the little man in the second part because he is supposed to be nameless until later, but maybe you're already figured out who he is, yeah? His identity is obvious, but he'll be unknown for now. Yeah, this fic is a bit of a mystery right now. I'll just leave it there, got something to torture readers with. Jk, jk! Well, see you on the next update!**_


	4. Chapter 3

**FireFly92 **XD Well, Evanna got pregnant by both Vancha and Gannen, didn't she?

**psychodramabeautyfish** Thanks :D Lolz, I'm always dying with reading cliffhangers, but I have a habit of always laying them out...xD

_**Time: Vancha is writing about his life up to when he becomes a Vampire Prince. At the end of the story, there's going to be a special chapter...so yeah...**_

_Disclaimer: Simply by becoming a part of Fanfiction I have separated myself from any hopes of claiming ownership of Darren Shan's epic works. _

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**_CHAPTER THREE_**

The answer came to me--and it was so simple--so _obvious--_that I wondered how I could've missed it; I gave myself a mental kick, swearing to myself silently. Across the clearing was Gannen, still aiming at whoever was behind me.

I bit my lip--maybe drew some blood--and shifted, as if in discomfort. The man behind me tensed, but I shifted some more--fidgeting, as if merely restless. _Let your guard down...,_ I prayed._ One moment, just let your guard down one moment...it's all I need..._

The man did not slacken. I mentally cursed him. "Let go," I said, and fisted my hand. I could feel the blood rushing through my ulterior body, but by the black blood of Harnon Oan I was not going to waver. Hell no. Charna's guts, no!

I punched him.

He didn't move.

Charna's guts.

_Good God, _was my instant thought.

But I did not wait--I punched again--and again--again--again--

"Leave us alone!" Gannen yelled, immediately taking advantage; the man still stared, and Gannen loosed an arrow that practically zapped through me--not zipped, zapped.

The thud did not come.

But the presence vanished, to my bewilderment, and the knife hit the ground in a thick clutter. I immediately spun around to find him gone: "Where are you?" I yelled. I wasn't about to let him go so easily! Not when he had come first! "Where in God's name are you?" I repeated, looking around wildly. Gannen instantly came to me, another arrow at the ready; he was also looking around.

And then the voice spoke from above.

"Do you want to live forever?"

Gannen's eyes widened, and so did mine; nonsense! "Balderdash!" one of us roared, using a term we had heard from a neighbor in childhood. I forget, I don't know which one of us said it. Eternal life? Bah!

"Do you want to be strong?"

"Balderdash!"

"Do you want to feast on your current own?"

"What in hell are you talking about, you madman!" Gannen snarled, aggression mounted; and I was swift grabbing the knife off the ground, wary as to some trick it may have been to have it turn on me.

"So young...," was the sigh.

"Show yourself, coward!" I yelled; the knife was solid in my hand.

"Ah, but why should I?" said the voice; the dark voice of the night. "I am no coward; merely bored. It's amusing to see you walk in circles; unaware of the forceful offer."

Those words infuriated Gannen and I both; we bristled at the mockery, and gripped our weapons tighter. The woods were dark around us. Looking above revealed nothing; we saw no shape that could stick out even at the most discreet. Everything was shaded wood, even to our skilled eyes.

"Show yourself!" I yelled again.

There was no answer; our mental tormentor didn't say anything, and we couldn't hear anything stir.

"Show yourself!"

"...Blood tastes good, does it not?"

"What?" Gannen and I were both baffled as well as sickened; it was at this point that we both finally grabbed the conclusion that we were confronting something supernatural. We weren't stupid, just practical.

"I offer you my power," he continued. "I will make you one of us."

"Bloodsucking..." I didn't finish my insult. I was scared, but ready to go as long as Gannen was unharmed. And still, I was fearful; this was a force beyond us.

"Foolish," he muttered, and came down.

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**_PT: -Is shot down-_**

**_Yes, I GET IT!! SHOOT ME LATER--! -Shot-_**


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